My Relationship With Writing
Why don't I have fun anymore when writing? Because I think I have to, and that it has to be a certain way, and that I do it for others and not myself. I do this based on a worry that if I don't keep these factors in mind, that I will just be wasting my time by not having anything in the end that is worth others attention and thereby no hope for making an income with writing.
Perhaps I should just embrace my craft and my own personal journey with it. I'm certain I can justify this transformation with thoughts of: I should aim to please myself first because I am first and the only one certain to witness it, and it would be a waste of time to do anything otherwise. But it is difficult to get rid of the paranoia.
I came to the craft of writing by accident as a rebellion against writing only when necessary, I enjoyed the mockery of it all and the sense of freedom it provided. It became mine. It was encouraged when others gave me positive feedback. And I got hooked.
This is a debate between writing for others and writing for myself. The compromise might be to write for myself and then refine it to be a bit more palatable to others; I think this is probably the best option. As it seems trying to start by pleasing others is turning out to be a directionless objective with uncertain destinations and has proven to be a time waster itself.
So, the conclusion now is that I write whatever I want to write. Let the magic happen. Let my laughter, intrigue, and so forth be my guide. Then present and refine. Like I do with cooking; how occasionally I just make something up based on ingredients I'm in the mood for and only after slight alterations for other's preferences when sharing.
I need to write based on a craving and inspiration to write, rather than foreign cravings for income, prestige etc., or a fear of time wasting. The fear of death prevents most from ever truly living. Where has that childhood bliss of beating upon pots and pans as a self indulging life embracing rockstar gone? It has been covered by judgements, social acceptance anxiety, perfectionism, doubt, harsh paralyzing self criticism, etc.
Now If you'll excuse me, I've got some cleaning to do.